rhapsody
by symphonies of you
Summary: "In her mind, she has always read him off as something untouchable, something forbidden." Rose is a cynical, scholarly Gryffindor who would rather hide in the corner with a book than be in the spotlight. Scorpius is a well-liked, arrogant Slytherin who takes schoolwork for granted. They're hardly friends, yet they're so similar underneath.-rosescorpius for louise, jane, and tatoe.


Hey, it's me again. (:

This is for the "Song of the Day" Challenge over at the Next-Gen Fanatics Forum [08 March 2012]. The first and last moment in this fic sort of mirror each other, jsyk.

**And warning: this is a border-line T-rated fic due to a very intense snogging session. ;)**

Dedicated to **Louise** (downstage), whom I love because she always encourages me and makes me laugh at the craziest things.

To **Janeh** (jaime-lannisters), because she is just fab and hilarious and insane. I love you to death, NGBATwin.

And to **Tatoe** (heading for a huge collision), because I'm proving to her that I love her more than she can love me. ;)

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own. JKR does.**

**pairing: **rosescorpius

**song: **angels on the moon by thriving ivory

**prompts: **golden, ache, individual

* * *

_you can tell me all your thoughts about the stars that fill polluted skies_

_and show me where you run to when no one's left to take your side_

-angels on the moon; **thriving ivory**

-:-:-:-

Anger.

That is all that is raging through her mind, turning her distorted vision to a hazy blood red.

She rushes into her empty dormitory and grabs her violin case, hurrying up many flights of moving staircases to a tiny, unused room that is occupied by only a baby grand piano left untouched and heavily coated in layers of dust. The room holds a special meaning for her; whenever she's in there, she feels like it is her only way of escaping the prying eyes of the judgmental students pressing all around her.

It's the only place in the world that she truly feels comfortable in.

She slowly unzips her case, staring at her companion of four years. Raising a shaky finger, she gently runs it along the outer edges of her instrument, feeling the curves and dips of the beautifully-carved violin.

Can she just forget the world for only a few moments? Can she just go back in time, undo everything, and pretend nothing ever happened even though everything just crashed down upon her?

She picks up her fragile violin and begins to pull her bow across the strings. She produces emphatic yet delicate notes that surge through the air, empowering her spirit to let loose. Closing her eyes, she lets the simple magic of music overwhelm her, erase the horrible moment away from time as her nimble fingers skilfully move up and down the fingerboard.

For a few moments—or is it hours?—she feels truly peaceful; the hauntingly beautiful myriad of notes alleviates her hurt caused by rejection. Her eyes fly open.

_Rejection_.

A lone tear traitorously slips out of her left eye, and another clings to her eyelashes. Slowly, they drip, drip, drip. They drip endlessly down her pale face, and she can taste her sorrow and humiliation mixed into the saltiness of the tears crisscrossing over her face.

_Is she really that unlikeable that no boy, especially the object of her affections, should like her?_

Her lower lip trembles from the thought and she continues to slowly drag her bow across the strings, crossing over to the G string to perform a lower octave of notes. Her body naturally sways in sync with the emotion-filled notes echoing from the strings of her instrument. A wavering smile tugs at her lips as she's nearing her favourite passage in the piece.

_She thought that Lysander might've also liked her in a deeper-than-platonic way. But Rose Weasley is wrong for the first time in her life._

Her fingers quickly shift positions up the fingerboard, and she executes the most difficult line in the concerto almost flawlessly.

A minor slip-up.

_Unacceptable._

She mentally kicks herself, furious at her error in the second to last measure of the line previously played. She's rehearsed, practised, ran through this particular line so many times. So why is it that she can't play it this one time? Are her emotions getting in the way?

_Is she a failure?_

As she is about to restart, her body becomes rigid when she hears a familiar voice speak.

"You should become a professional violinist. You're decent enough," a male voice suddenly penetrates the air.

It is Malfoy, and as she turns around she immediately casts her eyes toward the stone-paved floor, unable to look him in the eyes because she's just not ready to confront anyone of the opposite gender, especially Scorpius bloody Malfoy.

And how in the name of Merlin's sodding pants did he find this room? Only _she _knows about this place. Because it's _hers_.

After a silence that seemed never-ending, she tonelessly replies, "Why should I? I wouldn't have a very successful career. Godric, I do believe Scorpius Malfoy just complimented me. Should I be thankful?"

It's like he doesn't hear a single word she has just uttered; his gaze has fallen upon the antique piano behind her.

"It's a piano. There's a damn piano in this school," he mumbles with wide eyes.

She raises an eyebrow at his careless choice of words and mutters, "No shite, Sherlock. What did you think it was—a drum set?"

He's confused when he's shaken out of his trance from her interjection.

"What?" he inquires.

"Never mind, it's a Muggle phrase, _Malfoy_. I wouldn't expect you to know it. And apparently, you don't understand sarcasm either," she exasperatedly says.

She walks right by him with her lightly-freckled nose in the air, leaving him alone in the room.

-:-:-:-

The next time she crosses paths with him—besides classes—isn't deliberate. She's sneaking under Al's Invisibility Cloak to the Fifth Floor where the room is when a soft melody interwoven with an exquisite harmony begins floating to her ears.

Godric, the piano is being used.

She props the door open as quietly as she can, but the music sounding from the piano stops at her failed attempt of being quiet. Flushing ever so slightly, she steps into the room and covers her mouth with her hand when she notices that the unknown pianist is Scorpius Malfoy, the Slytherin prince.

Who knew he could be so vulnerable? The earnest, open expression on his face is a bit unsettling—heart-warming?—and bizarre, for Scorpius Malfoy is a boy who seems uninterested in everything. Thus, she is proven wrong again.

And how _dare _he steal her room.

He never pays attention in class—he is always jeering at the professors and unwanted students with his friends—and still manages to scrape an E or O most of the time on assignments. Scorpius Malfoy is a proud individual flanked by Slytherin boys, and he always curtly rejects girls, who throw themselves upon him in an unseemly manner. The bloody ferret is rather insolent and arrogant; his attitude is _despicable_. Honestly, the girls of their generation make her ashamed of her own gender. She snorts whenever she overhears the girls whispering (quite loudly) that his being unattainable and aloof makes him even more appealing and "sexy."

On the other hand, she finds his personality a bit _lacklustre _since he isn't so much a dynamic person. She truly doesn't think that there's more to him than what's on the surface because, honestly, why in the world would he choose to act so brazen and shallow? But she is also a bit _dull_, as her interests are her studies, music, and mastering the universal language of sarcasm. Just dull in a…different sense of dullness.

Merlin, a similarity between Malfoy and her. How (terrifying) _shocking_.

With reluctance, she meets his eyes, which are now nearly devoid of emotion. Merlin's pants, she hates this. She detests not being able to read people. Usually she can read people like a bloody spell book, but she just can't seem to be able to tell what is coursing through his mind.

"Stop staring at me," she snaps.

"W-What?" he stammers, startled at her rudeness.

"You're just staring at me like I'm not even there, like you're looking right through me. And it's really quite uncomfortable, if you must know," she responds. She bites back a laugh at his stutter; it's not everyday you see the _Slytherin prince _at a loss for words.

"Well, sorry for being in a daze, Weasley. I was thinking about something," he says through narrowed eyes.

"Malfoy thinking? That's a shocker. I suppose I must apologise for my short temper," she admits reluctantly.

He jerkily nods, accepting her apology, which takes her by surprise. She never would have accepted an apology that quickly. Hell, Malfoy normally dismisses apologies with disdain colouring his face. They stare at their feet, unable to begin a conversation because of the subtle awkwardness entering the air. There are currently two options: talking to the impenetrable Scorpius Malfoy or leaving the room. And she selects the first option for some unfathomable reason even though she's never really been an expert on the art of socialising.

"So, er, you play piano. How long have you been playing?" she hesitantly inquires, moving over to the piano bench to sit beside him.

"Ten years. How long have you been learning violin?" he unwillingly replies.

"Seven years. But my baby's only four years old," she murmurs fondly.

He raises an eyebrow and lightly chuckles at her amusing response, causing her to laugh along with him. She tilts her head to the side as she observes him. He looks a bit like a little child when he smiles an actual, genuine smile. It's a bit endearing, really.

Their laughter subsides, reducing to a few last laughs emitted by her. Godric, this must be the first time she has ever talked to Malfoy, and they've been in school together for six years. She really must do this more often; she actually feels comfortable with him, like she can be herself.

"You're quite good, Malfoy. Are you interested in performing professionally after we get out of here?" she curiously asks.

He reluctantly answers, "It's a possibility in my mind. My mum would probably love it, but my father and grandparents would probably be largely disappointed in my choice for a lifelong occupation. I'm expected to go into the Ministry and take up a boring job."

Her mouth forms an 'O' as she listens to him explain his situation. Her family would be flabbergasted at the idea of her going into music professionally, but they would still support her. Rose timidly raises her hand and covers his smooth hand with hers. His shoulders jerk a little, and he has a questioning expression written upon his face as he looks at her sympathetic face.

"It'll be alright, Malfoy. You'll figure it out," she calmly reassures him.

His lips form a tiny smile at her words.

It's the tentative beginning of a beautiful friendship that is sure to last the ages.

-:-:-:-

"We should do a duet, you and I. It would be pretty amazing, don't you think?" she suddenly exclaims.

"Maybe. We'll have to figure out if we work together well enough first," he muses.

They're walking at a leisure pace to the Library to study for an upcoming Transfiguration exam. The corridor is bustling with posses of students, and the clamour of their heated conversations is normality. However, Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy walking _together _is not normality; it is apparently an _absurdity_ because there are several students gawking at the sight of them.

Rose and Scorpius look at each other and sigh deeply as they rush together towards the safety of the quiescent Library. Inhaling the comforting scent of old tomes and ink, she strides towards the Transfiguration section. She inspects the rows of books resting on the shelves and selects a few leather-bound books regarding Conjuring and Vanishing Spells. Taking a momentary glance at the light-haired male beside her, she is bombarded by buffeting thoughts about their relationship. What exactly are they—acquaintances? Or are they deemed close enough to be considered friends?

"Oi, Malfoy, are we friends?" she suddenly asks, interrupting the peace of the secluded section of the Library.

He's silent, biting his bottom lip as he's lost in thought. She takes this opportunity to watch him. Being friends with him isn't such a horrid idea. After all, he's a growing musician like her, which is a plus. And he's not terribly annoying like some of the girls in their year.

"No, why would I bother being acquainted with someone like _you _when I'm stunning and absolutely perfect?" he responds with a teasing, lazy smirk.

She narrows her eyes at him in anger and exasperation. This boy will never learn.

"Yeah, I reckon so. Why do you ask?" he finally answers with his head cocked to side in question after seeing the look on her face.

Shrugging her shoulders, she sits down at a nearby table and flips through the pages of one of the books chosen. Not that she'll ever admit it, but she's…_ecstatic _that she has made another friend. She's not exactly unpopular, but she doesn't have too many (real) friends either. And it is _Malfoy_, the egotistical git,nonetheless. She abruptly pauses amid her extensive reading; why was she so opposed to interacting with him in the first place? In her mind, she has always read him off as something untouchable, something forbidden. Perhaps, it is because of her father's warning against him before she excitedly boarded the train as a first year.

She shakes her head at the tumultuous thoughts cluttering her mind; she needs to study and revise the effects of Vanishing Spells. Poring over the useful text, she is thoroughly absorbed as she furiously scribbles down bits of information on a spare piece of parchment; she jumps in her seat when she feels something prodding her arm.

"It's getting late, Weasley. We should get going," he states as he stands up to shove parchment and books into his bag.

She checks her watch and sighs when she realises how late it is. Thank Merlin she doesn't have patrols—_with Lysander_—tonight. He walks her back to the Gryffindor Tower, surprising her with the fact that he's being gentlemanly. Telling him goodnight, she mutters the password and is about to step into the portrait hole when he tells her to wait.

"You're coming with me to that room even I know you usually feel obligated to abide by school rules," he commands with a smirk, obviously expecting her to come with him against her own will.

She purses her lips and glares at him. Either she could give him detention for revealing his plans to deliberately ignore curfew and kidnapping her without her consent or she could break the school rules for the first time in her life.

"I swear, you're going to be the death of me, Malfoy," she mutters as she quickly enters the common room and rushes up the stairs to the girls' dormitories to drop off her book bag.

They head towards _their _room together; she reckons she can't call it hers anymore since Malfoy knows about it. Letting out the breath she didn't realise she was holding, she swiftly opens the wooden door and crosses into the room, smiling a bit at the piano that is waiting to be played before setting her case down. She watches him walk over to the piano in his confident stride and begin pressing the black and white keys. Her jaw nearly drops as she watches his fingers literally _fly_ over the keys, expertly playing a blur of notes. The peaceable expression on his usually expressionless face makes her wonder how she appears when she plays.

He unexpectedly stops playing whilst in the middle of a seemingly difficult passage.

"Do you happen to know Zigeunerweisen Op. 20 by Sarasate? It is also called Gypsy Aires? We should play that one day, me being your accompanist of course," he suddenly speaks in a soft manner that is quite uncharacteristic for him.

She nods her head, grinning at the mention of one of her favourite pieces of all times. She played it two years ago; a mask of dreaminess flits across her face as the beautiful, poignant piece begins distantly echoing in her mind. Lost in the music filling her ears, she doesn't notice Scorpius peering at her thoughtfully.

He goes back to finishing the piece he previously halted. The reverie she was momentarily ensnared in is unexpectedly shattered as she tunes in to the quick, lively notes produced by the piano. She notes that his rallentando towards the end isn't half bad; she claps a bit, letting only her fingers hit the palm of her opposite hand to ensure a soft applause.

Checking the time, she nearly curses when she realises the approaching lateness of the night.

"I'd better go right now. I'll see you tomorrow in Potions," she softly says before turning to exit.

"Wait, I should accompany you back to the Gryffindor Tower. It's only fair that I do so as I was the one who dragged you here with me," he protests, causing her right hand to pause before opening the door.

"No, it's fine. You should go too before Filch catches you," she insists, taking this as her cue to leave. She pauses, and a smile materialises onto her lightly freckled face. Malfoy being a gentleman? How astounding.

So they part ways—Rose to the Gryffindor Tower and Scorpius to the Slytherin dungeons.

-:-:-:-

"So what do you think is the purpose of life?" she curiously inquires, looking at Scorpius's pensive face.

They are sitting under their tree, her long red curls in a braid as usual, with their backs pressed against its weathered trunk, musing over psychological aspects circulating around their minds. The air is undeniably fraught with unanswered questions and indescribable thoughts. It's the last day before they are released back to their homes for the summer, and every single student is outside soaking in the sun's warmth.

He takes a while to ponder his response before answering her question with distaste. "This is quite a vague, commonplace question even for you, Weasley. Well, I can't really answer that question, considering I don't have much to live for. But, we're probably alive right now in order to take pleasure in the few things that life has to offer us. Is that answer sufficient enough for you, Weasley?"

Rose tilts her head and her eyes stray up towards the endless blue sky. "It's good enough for _you_, I suppose. And it's _Rose_, not Weasley. My name is Rose," she mumbles before addressing the disputable topic, "_Well_, I think that we were born to change the life of some particular someone that we're fated to meet; I reckon we carry the burden of executing a job only we're specialised in. We were born with different gifts that will be utilised to achieve our destinies and assist others in achieving their goals. So, obviously, destiny and fate rely upon each other to determine the course and outcomes of a person's life. That…is my complete opinion on the subject of life, Malfoy."

Scorpius appears stunned for a few moments at her revelation of her beliefs, stunned that she actually has taken the time to contemplate the essence of life. He nods in agreement, "Yes, now that you mention all of this, your interpretation is probably right, W—_Rose_. And you _are _being quite hypocritical since you insist on calling me by my surname; I prefer Scorpius."

A brief smile graces her lips before she stands up and strides towards the pebble-strewn shoreline of the Black Lake. She gazes at the golden and crimson colours streaking the sunset sky before bending down to take a misshapen pebble and hurling it as far as she can into the eerie waters. Ripples develop at contact with the stone and glitter under the sun's blinding gaze as the cast stone disappears into the murky depths of the mysterious waters.

"The Black Lake is so deep," she murmurs, gazing across the shining waves, "Why are people so shallow these days? Do they not have the proper mind capacity for things? They only think of their looks and…and—"

"That is because people like _me _can afford to appraise their stunningly good looks. I'm sorry to say that you cannot with the insurmountable amount of freckles on your toad-like face and unfortunate red hair," he declares with a smug smirk, causing her to scowl and fume at his inexorable rudeness.

"My face is _not_ toad-like! Did your mother ever teach you manners whilst growing up, Malfoy?" she retorts angrily, holding back the backstabbing tears. Godric, since when has she gotten so emotional over the issue of appearances? This isn't her, it isn't.

"You do not deny the freckles or the horridness of your hair. That is a first I do believe, Rose. And do not forget to call me Scorpius next time. As a matter of fact, she did. My manners are _impeccable_," he smoothly replies, raising a pale eyebrow at the rising colour in her cheeks. She flushes even more; she detests the way her cheeks involuntarily redden when she is incensed.

"I do wonder what your definition of impeccable is," she mutters with a baleful look directed towards the conceited boy next to her before she turns away from him to walk back to classes. She can't believe the _nerve _of him.

A trail of goose bumps develop where he gingerly touches her exposed arm. A shiver runs through her spine at his unexpected yet warm touch. Rose swivels around with an irritated look plastered onto her face; if he taunts her about her looks one more time she'll be forced to hex him.

Once more, he manages to astound her. "The awful look on your face has driven me to this…this apology I'm about to make. Well, I'm _sorry_…er, please don't make me do that again. That was extremely painful to do," he mutters with a reproachful expression upon his perfectly chiselled face.

"W-What?" she stutters, clearly bemused by the apology he has just delivered.

"Do you not have ears, Weasley? I apologised to you; you might as well _accept _it because I don't dish out apologies quite often," he snaps with blatant annoyance clouding his grey eyes.

She reluctantly accepts his apology with a nod of acknowledgement. He hesitantly motions for her to walk with him back to the castle, and a sigh escapes her lips as she acknowledges his invitation and begins to match his long stride. As he runs his hand through his hair, he makes the ends stand up a bit, causing his silvery blond hair to be more unruly than it already is. She giggles at the sight of his messy hair, and he shoots her a rueful smile. But she halts in mid-laughter, recollecting how boorish he was only a few moments ago.

Sometimes, she simply _cannot _begin to fathom what goes on in that boy's mind.

-:-:-:-

_Rose,_

_It's only been two days into summer but it is already unbearable. Father is pestering me about my future career and I do not know what to say since all I can think of pursuing is a music-related profession. Could you meet me at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour tomorrow at three?_

_Scorpius_

-:-:-:-

It's her seventh year. _Her final year_. She has just attended the prefects' and Heads'—_yes, she's Head Girl this year and her mum was ever so pleased_—meeting, and she can feel the sentimental, _ridiculous_ tears welling up in her eyes as she glances out the window of her compartment at the lush rolling hills of the countryside passing by. It's her last time riding the train to Hogwarts, and her heart isn't quite receptive of the unspoken fact just yet. Allowing her mind to drift off, she wonders where Scorpius is. Before she realises what she is doing, she stands up and exits her now-empty compartment in search of the boy she constantly owled over the languid days of summer. Rose finds it strange that she can finally admit that they do have something substantial, something like a friendship now. A victorious grin materialises onto her glowing face as she recalls the pact they made over the summer, the pact to renounce hurling insults at each other. Surprisingly enough, he had agreed to it and kept his promise, which is something quite rare in itself; sometimes she wonders why he even bothers to interact with someone as insignificant as her.

When she finally spots a familiar figure turned away from her sporting a crown of silver hair, she releases a breath she didn't realise she was holding, a lone gust of air filled with relief. She frowns at the people surrounding him—the brutish, thick-headed Slytherins in their year. Rose mimes throwing up at the unwelcome sight of them and flushes with utter mortification when they actually _notice _her in mid-action. They sneer at her and begin lobbing petty, pathetic insults at her, causing her to roll her navy blue eyes at their atrociousness; Scorpius turns around to see his mates' current target for verbal abuse and he widens his eyes at her unexpected appearance.

He suddenly gets up from his seat and hurriedly grabs his trunk, making his way to the compartment door. Raucous laughter and jeers and spiteful comments are emitted by his fellow Slytherins, and Scorpius snaps at them, his grey eyes flashing with anger, his words undecipherable from the other side of the door. Shock and bewilderment is upon all of their faces as he storms away from the Slytherin seventh year boys and slams the compartment door in their stunned faces. He looks at her with an incensed yet exhausted expression etched onto his pale face, an expression that she's never seen on his usually composed face.

"Let's go to your compartment, Rose," he mutters tersely with an agitated air about him.

They trudge back to her isolated compartment with a brooding Scorpius silently trailing behind her. As she flops down on her usual seat by the window, he takes a seat opposite her and folds his arms across his chest, slouching with a wary glint in his eyes. Seizing the moment, she grabs the brief chance to observe him as he stares out the window. His silvery blond hair has grown longer over the summer, falling into his eyes, his horrible posture has worsened a bit, and his eyes a darkened grey not unlike the sky of a summer storm still hold an indescribable torrent of intensity that only she could see when he was at his most vulnerable.

And he's grown even taller; he's nearly a head taller than her. But he still seems like the same old Scorpius except friendlier. Well, friendlier to her anyways.

"Is…is something bothering you?" she asks hesitantly, chewing her bottom lip. His unfocused gaze directed towards the landscape outside shatters as he turns to her and stares at her, perhaps pondering his answer.

"Nope…well, not exactly. Have you ever felt like your whole life has been a sham? That you've been such a plastic fake and don't desire to live the life you're living any longer?" he spills, wringing his hands with a torn, earnest look, a look completely unguarded upon his face that exposed the turmoil of emotions tumbling within.

Temporarily shocked at his willingness to reveal his thoughts and emotions, she stares at him. A sigh unpredictably flutters from her lips; she's felt this way too many times to count. Well, minus the plastic fake part, but she considers the world around her bogus and deprecating. She attempts to place the blame on the world, not herself, but sometimes she feels so…so _empty_. She nods in understanding to Scorpius's ingenuous words, shocked at his candour.

Is life meant to be this tiring?

She responds, with carefulness tinting her quiet voice, "All the time, you have no idea."

He sucks in a breath and holds it, mulling over everything and nothing. His angular face is shrouded in pensiveness and her eyes follow the curve of his high cheekbones whilst the taut muscles in his cheeks loosen as he slowly exhales. After what seemed like infinity, he opens his mouth to speak, "I'm just so fucking _tired _of—"

She coughs. "Language, watch your language, Mister _Quidditch Captain_."

He arches a light blond eyebrow and scoffs. "You are hardly one to talk, Miss _Head Girl_," he retorts with evident amusement in his throaty voice.

Her lips stretch into a sheepish grin, knowing that his words have fully marked her as an unintentional hypocrite. She lifts her chin towards him with a questioning flash in her dark blue eyes, gently urging him to continue what he was going to say before she, predictably, interrupted him.

"Those Slytherin boys in my year, they are incredibly persistent and follow me around like hungry pups. And they're impossibly _dim-witted, _which makes the matter all the more worse. Just now, they were implying that I fancied you! All because I couldn't take their whining and sniggering any longer. Imagine that, Scorpius Malfoy fancying _Rose Weasley_! It's rather preposterous, is it not? And as for the rest of the girl population…frankly, I'd rather get stung by a Blast-Ended Skrewt than deal with one more giggling girl. I can't stand anyone anymore with the exception of you. You're probably the realest person at Hogwarts, to be honest," he rants, enunciating everything in a fast and impassioned manner.

She's rather taken aback by his sudden outburst of confessions and she murmurs, albeit loudly enough for him to hear, "I'm rather touched that you think that highly of me, Scorpius. Really, I am. I used to doubt your association with me; I wondered why you'd choose _me _of all people to talk to."

His eyebrows are knit together in confusion. "Why in the name of Merlin would I not want to talk to you? But I must admit that I never talked to you before because you were a Weasley, you were untouchable."

She presses her lips together in a tight line. "And I admit that I didn't talk to you for the same reasons also. You shouldn't want to talk to me because…I'm not important or visible like you. There have always been walls between us, Scorpius."

He concludes in a rather superior air, "_Well_, you are my friend now whether you like it or not. You understand me like no one else because you're the only one who bothered to get to _truly _know the actual me. And you feel the music inside you just like me, and that similarity itself breaks barriers. We're more alike than you think, Rose."

They smile at each other, knowing that when the time comes they'll be by each other's side; they'll be fighting against the world together until the very end.

This beautiful moment in which the loose bonds of their friendship are strengthened comes to an end when they reach Hogwarts.

-:-:-:-

"GO, SCORPIUS, GO!" she screams at the top of her lungs.

It's the first match of the year—Slytherin against Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw is currently in the lead: 90-60. It's all up to Scorpius to win the match due to his being the Slytherin seeker.

Colin, the commentator, then announces that Gavin Corner has scored another goal through Slytherin's hoops. She groans as she notices the ninety change to a one hundred for Ravenclaw on the scoreboard. C'mon, where is the Snitch? Scorpius usually catches it within the first twenty to thirty minutes of the game, and it's already been forty-five minutes into the game.

The Slytherin crowd of spectators suddenly erupts into deafening cheers and shouts as Scorpius plunges into a steep dive towards the ground. Her hand flies up to her face and covers her mouth, feeling her heart beat erratically. The Ravenclaw seeker is right behind him, tailing him and attempting to speed up to no avail. She watches the light-haired Slytherin veer sideways, trailing the course of the speedy Snitch.

His hand is outstretched towards the flitting golden-winged sphere, and his fingers are clamped around it a few seconds later, causing the Slytherins to whoop loudly and chant his name in an obnoxious mantra.

She runs down to the Quidditch pitch where he's surrounded by admirers who are about to hoist him up on their shoulders. But when he sees her, he runs to her and she embraces him for the first time in their platonic relationship. He's stunned at first but proceeds to lift her off her feet and spin her around with glee alight his face. He has won his first match as Quidditch Captain.

When he finally lets her down, a beatific smile is upon her face as she congratulates him on his first win. He, of course, replies that his hard work paid off and getting toned muscles wasn't a waste of time after all. As usual, his prideful yet entertaining comments manage to induce her into laughter.

This day is truly explicit; it is flawless.

And this day marks the beginning of a series of tribulations working to hinder the fortitude of their friendship.

-:-:-:-

Everyone is taking a much deserved break from studying on this wintry day. It's late November, and the Black Lake is already frozen solid, the marine creatures put in a hibernation mode under several sheets of ice. Most of the students outside are planning to ice-skate, including herself.

She is alone, sitting in the powdery snow and shoving her feet into her ice-skates. Untangling her knotted laces and lacing them properly, she wonders where Scorpius is and what he's doing. He is probably studying as he is miraculously failing Herbology. A puff of breath issued by her mouth appears in the frigid air as she stands up and takes off on the glorious ice. It feels like she hasn't ice-skated in _ages_; it's the only sports-related thing that she's moderately alright at, if it counts as a sport.

Frosty gusts are relentlessly buffeting her hair as she skates, lashing at her cheeks which are unusually pale with the cold. She's deep in thought in her own little bubble where no one else can get in, daydreaming about what the future holds. Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wraps around her tiny frame, and she screams. The mentioned pair of arms proceeds to lift her in the air and spin her around, shocking her and making her protest even louder. When she is finally let down, she is still on the ice in his arms with her back facing him and her cheeks are pink from shouting and laughing at the same time. Her eyebrows are raised impossibly high when she cranes her neck to see Scorpius looking down at her, grinning ear to ear.

"Gotcha," he leans down and whispers, his warm lips barely brushing her tingling ear.

She shivers, but not because of the freezing temperature. His lips being in contact with her throbbing ear has sent a searing sensation throughout her entire body that unfathomably pleases her. Her thoughts are jumbled in disarray, and she concentrates on his arms, which are still encircled around her waist. She flushes at their close proximity and remembers to breathe when he finally lets go of her and turns her to face him. Rose looks everywhere but him, knowing that the baffling emotions will be clearly written all over her red face.

He takes her chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilts it upward, forcing her to look at him.

"Is he going to kiss me?" her muddled mind idly wonders. And she immediately rebukes herself, mentally of course, for having such…such _wrong thoughts_.

"Your cheeks are quite rosy…no pun intended. And I've just realised, I've never seen your hair out of your braid," he murmurs absentmindedly, fingering a loose strand of her hair and peering at her.

She laughed in spite of herself at his unintended pun. Her eyes widen; she hopes that he will not ask her to take her hair out of the plait. She abhors the sight of her hair down; the large mass of red hair atop her head is absolutely horrid.

Unexpectedly, someone accidentally knocks into them, and they fall into the bank of snow that is thankfully behind her to cushion their fall. He crashes on top of her and begins to apologise profusely when he abruptly stops.

To her mortification, they are close enough to kiss and his right leg is nestled between her slightly spread legs. Even though there are multiple layers of clothes between them, she can somehow feel the comforting heat emanating from his body. Her deep blue eyes are comically big at the sight of his lips so tantalizingly close to hers. Damn these hormones.

He quickly gets up, running a hand through his hair, and starts walking away from her.

"Wait, Scorpius! Where are you going?" she asks as she gets up to follow him.

He mutters brusquely, "I've…I've got to go study for Herbology. See you later."

And he leaves her standing there, in utter bewilderment of what has just happened.

-:-:-:-

It's a Saturday in late January and much too cold to frolic outside in the snow, so she has decided to isolate herself in an abandoned room on the third floor. With her elbows propped up on her knees, she buries her face in her hands, a few of her red curls falling forth from her braid and curling around her hands and face like flames licking the walls of a burning house, like fire. She has long gotten over her sickening infatuation—_thank Merlin patrols aren't awkward any longer_—with Lysander Scamander, but she fears that her heart may have been stolen once again, stolen by someone dangerously close to her.

Stolen by Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, of all people. Oh the clichéd irony, gag her now.

She should have seen this coming, seen this quickly approaching her. But she didn't. And the candid whispers of heart have finally reached her ears, the truth smacking her across the face as she pushed forward in her blindness, her failure to recognise the ugly face of reality.

Must she always fall for the wrong person?

Godric, she needs to get over this guy as soon as possible. Falling in love with Scorpius Malfoy is dangerous, terrifying,and _wrong_. To make matters worse, they happen to be best mates now. And it hurts that he'll never see her as anything other than the cynical, scholarly violinist with a tousled mane of red curls whom he, for some unfathomable reason, calls his friend.

She doubts that he's even noticed that she's a _girl_, for Merlin's sake.

Her head turns at the sound of the door creaking open—it's him. She detests it whenever someone that she's thinking or talking about randomly appears near her. Flushing at the mere sight of him, he obviously does not notice the colour rising in her face because he directs a regal sort of nod towards her and sits next to her at the table she's seated at. Godric, he's utterly _oblivious_, even for a boy.

"Hey Scorpius. How did you find me?" she quietly mumbles, removing her hands from her previously-shielded face.

"Because I know you well enough to know that you seem to enjoy isolating yourself from everyone even though you have friends and family members that appreciate your existence. Were you upset about something before I arrived?" he replies nonchalantly.

Stupid tosser. Of course she was upset, upset over _him_ unfortunately.

"No, no I'm fine. Famished, but fine," she mutters, causing him to chuckle at her mention of her insatiable hunger.

"That is probably true, knowing you, but seriously tell me, Rose. What's wrong?" he replies in a sombre tone.

She sighs with a voice fraught with unwillingness. "A philosophical yet genuine question for you—do you believe in love?" she reluctantly inquires with her face cast down towards her lap. She doesn't think she can look him in the eye whilst asking such a question as this—the emotions swirling amid her heart that are undeniably present on her face may betray the true meaning behind the question.

"No, because 'love' is a contradiction. I abhor contradictions. Love isn't realistic at all in the slightest," he answers honestly with distaste permeating his voice.

Godric, she's forgotten how he sees everything in black or white and nothing in between.

She hesitates to answer him and he notices. "Merlin, Rose, you can't honestly _believe _in love. It does not agree with reality; it is of the abstract and therefore unreal and according to a person's perception. Why should you believe in it? It does not make any sense whatsoever," he states obstinately with a stubborn set of his jaw.

"But love makes people happy and light-hearted," she weakly responds.

"How? Tell me. How can such a thing bring joy into one's life?" he challenges.

"Not everything is in black and white, Scorpius. Things can be wreathed in multiple shades of grey and still work out. My mum and dad are deeply in love—what do you make of that?" she retorts with a hint of frustration creeping into her voice.

"It only exists to tear lives apart; the chances of staying blissfully happy in a 'relationship' are one in a million. And your parents are one of those golden few that can justify that. If you want a non-example, my parents are available for examination. People really should not depend on such a fickle thing as love to remain happy," he snaps back, blatantly irritated with her as well.

"We could be that one in a million," she whispers and gasps when she realises she has voiced her private thoughts aloud.

Please, please don't let him have heard what she just said. She repeats this mantra countless times in her head, attempting to prevent the fear from displacing the hope she has instilled into her brain.

"What? _What _did you just say to me? You're taking the mick out of me, aren't you?" he shouts with shock written all over his aristocratic features.

Well, repeating that mantra obviously did not help matters. "Yeah, forget it Scorpius," she utters brusquely.

Oh Godric, the throbbing ache in her heart feels like it's never going to fade away. She really _does _have the worst luck in the world, doesn't she? She isn't beautiful or outgoing or athletic like her other girl cousins—she's temperamental, sarcastic Rose with nothing to her but intellect and the (unfortunate) fame of her last name. And, of course, she has to fancy the best-looking boy in the school who also happens to disapprove of anything related to love.

She had told herself a long time ago that she wouldn't be one of those pathetic girls pining after Scorpius Malfoy. What happened to that promise?

Her infinite insecurities envelop her fragile mind and heart as she walks away from him with wobbly tears threatening to leak out of her eyes.

-:-:-:-

It's been ages since they've last interacted. She's stuck with Lily and Al—and she reluctantly tells only Lily about fancying Scorpius and about her piano room—in order to elude him as much as possible, which is near damn impossible with him in every single one of her classes. And it hurts, it hurts seeing that cold—yet somehow broken beneath the surface—look on his face whenever she sees him. She doesn't know how she can hurt even more, but she does. Perhaps, that's what love does to people; it just tears them up and leaves them in tattered shreds of nothing. Perhaps love _does _play people like a helpless puppet on strings. Maybe he's right about love—it isn't worth it.

But she doesn't want him to be right. She still wants to believe in love despite of all the contradictions that have come up against her. Obstinacy and determination, those are probably her most impressive qualities besides her inherited cleverness.

And it doesn't help that she constantly thinks about him. Whenever she does something, even the simplest thing, she wonders what Scorpius would say, what he would think. Rose gets so frustrated to the point of tears and wanting to rip her hair out. She sees him laughing with the Slytherin dimwits in the corridors and something on the inside of her dies a little. She sees him start to date countless girls—_he's a fucking hypocritical liar_—and snog them in plain sight, and she crumples to her knees in the middle of a sea of faces, in the middle of the corridor from the pain of it all. She sees him inconspicuously looking around himself, wanting to talk to her, and a few tears escape her eyes. She wants to say that this is his entire fault, but it's hers too; she's doing this to herself, torturing herself.

(And she wants to cover her ears and die after hearing so many girls giggle and squeal over their snogging sessions with him. How can he betray her like this?)

She's done better than she expected in evading a conversation with him though she feels enormously guilty whenever she darts away onto a moving staircase or into a hidden passageway to avoid facing him. The disappointed look encompassing his face and the slight sagging of his broad shoulders literally and metaphorically pain her, but she still pushes forward, attempting to ignore the protesting screams echoing all around her.

If he doesn't love her back, she won't be able to breathe from the excruciation, the pain of it all. She won't. And he probably doesn't, he probably doesn't love her back. Who could love someone like _her_?

But it's not until three months later when he finally catches her off-guard in the piano room. She's sitting down with her knees drawn up on the cobblestoned floor and absentmindedly plucking the strings of her violin, weaving a tune that's been lurking on her mind, and doesn't notice him opening the door. She doesn't notice until he leans against the wall with his arms folded across his chest and whispers, "Hey."

Jumping up in surprise, she stifles a horrified scream that is nearly uttered from her mouth. How could she have let him find her here? How could she have been so _stupid_?

But she doesn't run away like her mind is telling her to. Instead, she retrieves that Gryffindor bravery that she has hidden deep within her and manages to murmur, "Hello. How've you been?"

Unable to say anymore, she sets her violin down on the piano bench and stares at the grey splotched ceiling, biting her bottom lip in nervousness.

For some reason, he appears livid and aggravated when she replies. "How've I been? How've I _been_? What sort of stupid question is that? I truly thought you were joking and you just walked away like a damn _coward_. It irks me to admit this, but it's been horrific not having someone that understands me on a different level by my side. I never really realised how much I depended on you until…until now," he yells, finishing on a softer note.

At first, she is irate and appalled at him implying that she is _stupid _(and a coward), which is one of the most atrocious, unjustified comments one can make about Rose Weasley. Then, her face quickly softens at his vulnerability exposed in the next set of statements. Merlin, how can she mean that much to him? How can she mean that much to him on only a strictly platonic level? It just isn't possible for a teenage boy-girl relationship. Her face hardens. He can't just say that, he can't just say that after scoffing at her for unsuspectingly revealing her feelings for him. Not after dating so many girls even though he scorns the topic of love. She's not ready to forgive him. No, not yet.

He continues, "Seeing your face so emotionless and lifeless nearly killed me. I'm so sorry for making you feel like hell. And when your face was distorted with fear at just the mere _sight _of me, it broke my heart. It literally broke my heart. It really did. It was awful because I couldn't stand being the cause of your pain and trepidation. And…And I've never cared so much about a _girl _before. It scared me, to be honest. When you would hide or run away from me, I wanted to punch a wall and scream my lungs out. I've never felt this sort of agony before, the kind where you feel like you're nearly at the point of dying, the kind where you feel like you're in a nightmare and you just want to wake up from it. And my world started crumbling and falling apart whenever I saw you smiling and interacting with another guy. I felt a possessive rage surging through me, some dark form of jealousy, because that should've been me making you laugh like I used to. I just couldn't stand it anymore. I started to reconsider the unreliable concept of love because something was tampering with my emotions; it was love, which scarily took on the form of a certain red-headed girl whom I was quite familiar with. And I think it was at that point I realised that I might possibly fancy you too in spite of all the warning voices in my head."

Her mouth is agape at his sincere apology and she is breathless at hearing his love confession for her, at hearing his voice again (Merlin, he has no idea what his voice does to her insides). She can't believe her ears. Is this a dream? He…did he just admit that he fancies her?

Or is she going mad?

At a loss for words, she stutters, "You…you fancy me? H-How?"

He bites his lip. "I do think so…this is all very strange. But you showed me that even something as intangible and insane as love can exist. In spite of our flaws, we fit perfectly together in such a way that I wouldn't with anyone else. So, I reckon love is everyone's downfall but ours. Because I know you won't hurt me. And I'm willing to give _us _a chance, if you still are, Rose."

Oh goodness, since when has he gotten so serious and so eloquent of a speaker? Merlin, he's changed so much, he's changed from that insolent, uncaring boy to one that understands the value and fragility of friendship and now _love_. To her dismay, tears are welling up in her eyes. And since when has she gotten so emotional?

(Since she met Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.)

"Godric, this is so much to take in all at once…but yes. Oh _yes_," she exclaims with unadulterated joy permeating her rapturous voice.

He grins and gingerly takes her in his arms, gazing down at her with such a smouldering look that melts her insides and turns her legs to jelly. Capturing her lips with his, his soft lips meld to hers perfectly, colliding together flawlessly like fire and ice. She throws her arms around his neck and deepens the tender kiss as he places a hand on the small of her back, pushing her closer to him as his fingers play with the end of her plait. He holds her like she is glass, like she can break any moment, and she feels completely safe in his arms. His tongue glides over her bottom lip, seeking entrance, and she complies. She doesn't notice the fingers on his right hand fumbling with the ribbon holding her braid in place. When he tugs off the ribbon and loosens her exquisitely-done braid, she gasps at him undoing her braid, the crimson waves falling to the middle of her back; but she relaxes as his lips move in sync with hers, creating a rhythm, a harmony, a rhapsody.

Screw the world's opinions of a Malfoy and Weasley being together. They are perfection personified.

-:-:-:-

They're hidden away in _their _piano room, hidden from the world, hidden from plain sight. If the world knew about them, their relationship would be rejected by many, by their families. And yet, they still earnestly try to make _RoseandScorpius _work despite of all the odds set out against them since birth.

In the middle of their gentle kiss, he suddenly breaks away and stares at her with an unreadable look fraught with so many emotions that she cannot decipher. Her heart is thrumming wildly against her chest, and she can feel the vibrations of the quick-paced drumming of his heart—_lub dub, lub dub_—against hers. Reaching for one of the red tendrils framing her face, he twirls it around his forefinger, captivating her into a stunned silence. She can't believe that this is happening, that they have been secretly seeing each other for two months now.

(And she can't believe that he convinced her to leave her hair down today. She must look absolutely horrid.)

Whilst looking into her eyes, he quietly says, "You're too beautiful, Rose. Especially with your hair down like this. It looks like fire and absolutely enchanting. You really should leave it down more often."

Godric, he really does know how to charm a girl, doesn't he? It must be a Malfoy thing as her mum too had been enraptured by his father at a point in time.

(But that's a secret that her mum told only to her, not even her father.)

Then, he leans in to whisper in her ear with a low, sexy voice that makes her shiver. "And as for those girls I dated beforehand to forget you, they can't compare to you. You're the best snogger of them all."

Incredibly indignant, she draws back, sputtering and blushing at his cheeky words. He smirks at her lack of response, pleased with himself for rendering her speechless.

(Merlin, she just wants to kiss that smirk off his perfect lips. She just wants to rip his shirt off and do things to him like he's doing to her.)

(Or is this just the hormonal, irrational part of her mind speaking?)

Her mouth repeatedly opens and closes, unable to form a single retort, and he takes that as an opportunity to kiss her again. But this time around, it's completely different; he's more insistent and rough and passionate. He backs her up against a wall, never once removing his lips from hers. He sucks on her bottom lip, his soft lips demanding on hers, eliciting a breathy moan from her as warmth of delight fills her belly. Pent-up emotions built up from all those months of separation are released into this blazing, fiery connection. He tears his mouth away from hers, catching her by surprise, to plant hot kisses down her neck. Responding to his change of actions, she instinctively wraps both of her legs around his waist, and her knee-length skirt rides up even more, exposing the lace of her knickers. Grunting into the softness of her pale arched neck, his hands grip the backs of her thighs as he grinds into her, both of them sighing with contentment due to their frenzied activity.

She quivers in his tight embrace; she's never gotten so much of a kiss on the cheek from the opposite sex before Scorpius (her cousins and father don't count), let alone had this much action in a snog. It's all _wantwantwant _and _needneedneed_, and it's absolutely glorious and perfect. Lacing her fingers around his neck, she flushes and her back arches off the wall when she feels him pressing into her so harshly. She can't decide whether it's the obvious lack of oxygen or his wonderful mouth that is making her head spin.

His mouth is doing things to her that she wants to experience for the rest of her life. As his mouth ventures towards her collarbone, she ardently gasps, "Oh, Scorpius. Godric, don't stop; this feels oh so very nice."

His lips hover over her collarbone, his breath tickling her skin and sending tingles racing up and down her spine. Then, they crash down upon it, moving in complicated rhythms and movements over her skin and tempting her to scream with pleasure. As his mouth moves up her neck, his teeth nip and pull at her skin and his tongue flicks over it afterward; he groans into her neck with satisfaction at the taste of the skin on her neck. Removing his tingling lips from the vicinity of her neck, he looks up at her, his pupils a bit dilated with lust. She feels scrutinised and self-conscious and covers her burning face with her hands, peering through the small spaces between her fingers as he gazes at her with something fraught with…adoration? Love? She wonders what he's thinking right now as a lazy grin slowly forms upon the curve of his lips.

A few strands of his white-blonde hair fall into his mercurial grey eyes as he alluringly says, "Now now, Rose, why must you feel self-conscious? You're so damn perfect, and I think it quite sad that you don't realise it."

She reddens even more at his reassuring words and uncovers her face. She thanks him with a light kiss on the lips; then, she proceeds to kiss him more fervently. Angling her mouth to get a better taste of the cool spearmint of his mouth, she nibbles lightly on his lips, licking where she has nibbled. Feeling a sudden jolt of pleasure from the taste and feel of him in her mouth, she interlaces her fingers through his softsoft_soft _hair and brings them even closer as she tightens her hips around him. Their bodies are pressed together like puzzle pieces, fitting perfectly with an entanglement of limbs and reciprocated expression of yearning.

He growls playfully into her mouth, thinking it attractive that she has decided to take the lead in this kiss. Savouring the taste of her in his mouth, he kisses her back with such fervour and pours a flood of his emotions into the kiss, willing her to feel what he's feeling, to feel how much he admires her. He kisses her desperately like she's his oxygen and that without her he'll die. She gasps at the heat, the rush of emotions flowing between their bodies. She is like an inferno, burning and blazing within the coolness of his ice; they balance each other like the elements. Her tongue shyly meets his and a shudder of contentment ripples through their hormone-ridden bodies; his fingers gently kneads her thighs, moving in circles higher and higher under her skirt.

A sharp intake of breath flutters from her lips. This is uncharted territory; she's never gone this far with anyone. Godric, they're breaking many boundaries, and it's mentally scaring her.

"Are you alright, Rose? Is this too much?" he says into her mouth, serious and concerned.

"N-No, it's fine; I'm just not used to this," she murmurs, suddenly timid.

"Don't worry, Rose. I'm the best when it comes to snogging, and I won't hurt you," he replies rather cheekily.

She rolls her eyes and her tongue glides over his bottom lip and meets his tongue again, rediscovering him. He smiles against her lips, and his hands begin their magic again.

(She swears his hands are magical because they are _doing unmentionable things _to her.)

His hands itch towards the lace of her knickers, fingering the soft lace but not straying to caress the skin underneath. Moving his hands upward to cup her bum more tightly, he lifted her higher against him. She moans and her fingers wander from his hair to the ends of his long-sleeved shirt, skirting underneath it to touchfeel_rub_ the hidden skin of his lower back. His hands are wild on her bum, and she grinds hips more firmly to him.

Together, they erect a rhythm, a harmony, a rhapsody.

They can both feel an arousal rising in them, and they know they should stop soon; but their hormones are overpowering them. They frantically run their hands over each other, trying to memorise every inch, every centimetre of each other.

She quietly says into his mouth, "I love you, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy."

He smirks against her lips and says, "I love you too, Rose Nymphadora Weasley."

Eventually, their lustful passion boils down to just pure tenderness. She has just one leg hitched around his waist, drawing him close to her. Her hands are back in his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it; their breaths mingle together as only affection and warmth seep into their kiss. His right hand is on her bum, gently pressing her to him, and his other hand moves to cup the back of her head, angling their kiss. The remnants of their heated, frenetic snogging slowly dissipate, leaving only the sweetness and innocence of the duo's current embrace.

They are so wrapped up in each other that they don't hear the faint echo of footsteps in the corridor outside. And they still don't notice when the door is being opened.

They only come to their senses when she hears a veryvery_very _familiar voice say her name.

"Rose Weasley? Merlin's beard!" a discernable female voice sounds, full of incredulity at the sight before her.

They spring apart, flushed and panting. Taking in their appearances—mussed hair, swollen lips, guilty glances, noticeable love bites on Rose's neck, clothes in disarray—Lily smirks knowingly. With glee alight in her eyes, she exclaims, "Never did I think I'd live to catch my innocent cousin snogging Mr. Malfoy here like there's no tomorrow. I'm incredibly proud of you, Rosie."

She narrows her eyes at her overjoyed cousin before muttering, "Get the hell out before I hex you, Lils."

"You're really lucky that _I _was the only who caught the both of you; if it were Al or anyone else, you'd be dead. And you should be grateful that I'm not telling Uncle Ron or anyone in our family," she simpers, offended by Rose's tone.

"Yes, whatever. Now, please leave," she utters behind gritted teeth. Merlin, Lily really is having the time of her life toying with the subject of them, isn't she?

"At least _act _grateful, will you?" she remarks upon her lack of response before flouncing off and faintly mutters, "Family these days. What an ungrateful lot."

They burst into laughter at Lily's dramatic departure and both of them breathe a sigh of relief.

One less person to tell about their relationship.

-:-:-:-

_Two years later…_

Nervousness. Anxiety.

She's never been more nervous and anxious than she is now.

The whole world will be watching.

Her confidence and focus is starting to ebb away at the sight of the bright lights at Fallaghy Hall, which is fully packed with audience members as it is the most famous concert hall in the Wizarding World. A hand reassuringly squeezes her shoulder; it's Scorpius. Right away, she feels a tremendous surge of positivity cascade into her.

Yes, he still has that soothing, miraculous effect on her after all this time.

Vaguely, she hears the speaker incessantly chattering on about irrelevant things. The clamour of the audience's voices intermingled with the speaker's bright, cheery voice is drowned out by the unpleasant thoughts plaguing her insecure mind.

"And at last, please welcome Rose Weasley, violinist, and Scorpius Malfoy, pianist!" the speaker trills in an overly excited voice, in her opinion.

There is a thunderous smatter of applause as she steps out from backstage with Scorpius walking hand-in-hand with her. They both bow and she waits for him to take a seat at the piano.

She awaits the beginning notes of Zigeunerweisen, the piano tremolo before she begins. Drawing her bow across her G string, she attacks her strings with powerful strokes that convey the majestic emotions meant to be expressed _ohsovery_ strongly and passionately. Her fear lessens. Closing her eyes, she lets herself _feel _the music, feel the music coursing through her, feel the music becoming her. Her skilful fingers expertly race up and down the finger board, weaving an intense, intricate flurry of rhythms and notes that keeps the audience enthralled.

_Reverence_.

With the notes whirring by so fast, she hardly notices her surroundings as she focuses her attention on the fast run of notes leading into a low note with an exaggerated crescendo. She ends the first zealous movement on a soft, rich tone that infiltrates into the very soul of every person present. Watching Scorpius sway to the riveting myriad of notes, she smiles at him with a gaze filled with admiration and love.

_After all this time, they've fallen in love and there's no going back._

She observes Scorpius's fingers caress each and every key he touches, creating a placid, mellow harmony that she accompanies with a poignant melody of a similar tone four measures later. It is all very hushed and the audience is holding their breath as their ears strain to hear and savour every pulsation, every vibrato of the beautiful notes. The last series of notes simply float in the air, a ribbon of simplicity siphoning and threading through the silence of the audience. A ghost of a melodic note lingers in the air, enveloping the audience in stilled silence. Creating a smooth, serene atmosphere, Rose looks at Scorpius and he looks at her before causing a rupture in the quiescence.

_Love is in the form of Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy._

Together, they disrupt the quiet atmosphere with fast, light notes and rhythms in the final movement that has everyone in the room spellbound in rapt awe. With her fingers flying over the fingerboard, the rigorous fierceness and quickness astound many, for most of them didn't see it coming. Rapidly plucking with the fingers on her left hand and playing with the bow within mere milliseconds afterwards, she feels her pace quicken at the _animato _and she grins as she gradually speeds up and perfectly executes all of the hardcore parts that she always slips up on.

No mistakes.

_Flawless._

She can see Scorpius smiling out of the corner of her eye as well as he matches her pace and they're perfectly in sync as they speed up together. Rose performs the last two double-stops via pizzicato, ending the eight-and-a-half-minutes long piece. Heaving a huge breath of relief, she can't stop smiling as the crowd bursts into applause and gives them an encore.

_She isn't a failure. No, not anymore._

Something brushes by her shoulder. It's Scorpius's hand as he begins to walk backstage. And she turns to follow him but he stops her with a hand motion signalling her to stop and wait. She watches him get something that appears to be a small box and wonders what it is. He stuffs it in one of the front pockets of his dress pants and comes back out with his wand in his hand whilst everyone is still cheering and clapping.

When he points his wand at his throat, she becomes alarmed and reaches her hand out to him. But she relaxes as he only mutters _Sonorus_ to amplify his voice.

Clearing his throat, he announces, "I have something to say if you would all please be quiet."

The audience abruptly stops roaring and confirming its approval.

He nervously begins, "As most of you know, I am dating the most beautiful girl in the world," he pauses as he slings his arm over her shoulder, causing her to blush, "And I have been in love with her for two years."

The couples and female persons all croon _awww _at his nerve to profess his love publicly while Rose continues to look at him oddly with confusion in her eyes. Why is he bothering to announce this in front of the general public when they already know?

(When her family found out they were dating, it got out to Witch Weekly and ever since then, the whole world has been speculating over their "forbidden" love.)

Her eyes widen when he gets down on one knee and takes out that small box in his hand. Godric, is he really proposing to her in front of everyone?

He calmly looks her in the eye with fervour in his grey eyes. "Rose, you are the most beautiful, intelligent, and wonderful girl I have ever had the chance to meet. You changed me for the better, and I wouldn't be here today living my dream if it weren't for you. And I know for sure I will always love you. Rose Nymphadora Weasley, will you do me the honour for marrying me and making me the happiest man alive?"

He opens the velvety box and exposes the ring inside. She has a hand over her mouth in shock as the audience is all aflutter over his romantic proposal. Nodding with tears brimming in her eyes, she says, "Yes, Scorpius. I will."

Rose jumps on him and kisses him firmly on the mouth, expressing her bliss at his long awaited proposal. There are catcalls coming from the audience—the majority of it coming from James and Fred—and it's the most flawless night ever in her twenty years of life.

And along with the catcalls, the audience is throwing roses at them.

-:-:-:-

* * *

**A/N: I hope this was somewhat okay, um. Please don't favourite this without reviewing! =)**

**-nic.**


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